Admittance
by ynm
Summary: DouWata Major SPOILERS for Chapter 117 onwards. Inspired from one particular image in Chapter 119.


Disclaimer : ...mine? I wish...

Author's Note : Inspired by the image of Doumeki sitting outside of Watanuki's sickroom covered in blood in Chapter 119. If you've seen it, it's the most word-defying image I've ever seen, words cannot properly describe the feeling that comes over you when you see it.

* * *

He arrived panting, out of breath from striding non-stop with a weight in his arms, a weight that was supposed to be heavy but felt lighter than air, as though it would just disappear at any given moment. His legs were trembling slightly from the stress he had placed on them. But all this was nothing compared to the slim frame that was now cradled within his arms.

When he saw the wooden posts, he collapsed in front of them, finally at his destination. He clutched his burden – no, never a burden – the precious thing that was entrusted to him close to his chest. He had failed in fulfilling the promise he had made to himself, proof of that seeping into his archery uniform, staining the thick, white cloth red.

He continued kneeling in front of the wooden posts, head bent, fingers gripping into soggy cloth that was impossibly red, waiting. Seconds passed, long and excruciatingly painful seconds, before he heard footsteps approaching him but there was no sign of approaching people. In fact, the street he was on was miraculously devoid of any life, humans or otherwise. Which was a good thing, because he would have been hauled off to the police if anyone saw him at the moment. At the back of his mind, which still contained a little rational thought, reasoned that it must be her work.

Feet clad in black, silky material appeared before his down-cast eyes.

"You have a wish," a deep, sultry voice stated, very much different from the usual giddy-on-alcohol voice that she normally used.

"Yes," he replied, no doubt on his mind.

"What is it?" the voice asked.

"Save him," he said, holding the figure in his arms even closer. This was the one thing he couldn't do on his own, no matter how hard he tried. He could only hope she would grant his wish, the only wish he would ever make in his entire life if she would fulfill it. He would never dare wish for anything more.

"There will be a price to pay," the voice reminded, giving him a way out. But he knew that there was no turning back for him. This was the path he chose and he would not regret it, no matter what the price.

"I will pay anything. Just, please, save him," his voice cracked slightly at the end of it. He swallowed, words having a hard time coming out over the tight feeling in his throat.

"You cannot pay enough," the voice sounded slightly regretful over its decision.

"Please, you have to save him. If I can't pay all of it now, I'll work for you until I repay my debt," he reasoned. He refused to acknowledge that he was on the verge of begging because that would make what was happening reality and that the situation was desperate enough for him to be begging.

"You alone cannot pay enough," the voice re-stated firmly.

He hung his head, resting it atop of the mass of black hair, once silky and soft, now tangled and in disarray. He brought up one of his hands and held the slim figure in his arms even closer, holding on tightly, as if he could ward off all harm and danger by doing so. He could once, did many times, but not this time.

The silk-clad feet in front of him didn't move, as if waiting for something. He waited, seconds ticking by. He wanted to do something, _anything_, but this was the last hope available. If she couldn't help him, no one else can. He gripped the figure in his arms close, fears floating around in his head, playing out one scenario after another which all lead to one conclusion, but he wouldn't voice them because to voice them would be to give them life.

He heard footsteps, two sets of them. They approached where he kneeled, and stopped slightly behind him. He registered the owners of the two sets of footsteps dimly, his entire being focused on the light weight in his arms, getting seemingly lighter as each second passed by, like fast-flowing water that he could not catch within his hands. There was silence all around, the newcomers not saying a word.

Finally, the voice spoke again, "The three of you will be sufficient payment, I shall grant your wishes. Follow me."

He looked up in time to see the owner of the voice walk towards the wooden posts and into the compound of a house that didn't look like it belonged in this century, or even this country. It was an odd mix of both eastern and western architecture, yet instead of clashing, it blended together, each element's strong point co-existing with the others' harmoniously, even enhancing it.

He got up slowly, lifting the person in his arms gently, as he followed the owner of the voice, her long, black hair swaying as she walked. Two sets of footsteps followed after him as he walked towards the wooden posts.

He entered.

-owari-


End file.
